


packing up

by Emilys_List



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-30
Updated: 2004-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: the breakup of josh and amy.





	packing up

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**packing up**

**by:** emily’s list

**Pairing(s):** i can't believe i wrote it. ugh. josh/amy.  
**Rating:** MATURE for naughty words.  
**Disclaimer:** josh, amy & donna have a lot of drama. i do not own them, or their drama.  
**Spoiler:** posse comitatus  
**Summary:** the breakup of josh and amy.  


He stares at the floor, his hand glued to his forehead. Amy watches him, unsure of how close she can really be. 

She looks to her hand that dangles uselessly at her side as he speaks quietly to Leo. 

Her heart is beating fast, their argument still electrically charged and hanging in the air. She loves to argue with him. These discussions are sensual and intimate. If he were fucking someone else, it wouldn't matter because she knew she was the only one that he argued with like this -- his eyes bright and his mouth wet. 

Tonight was different. 

Josh places the phone in its cradle and looks to her. He wants to tell her what he was just told; he wants comfort. His mouth opens but all that comes out is a small, frustrated sigh. He puts his arm out, wanting to touch her. 

She's too quick tonight, turning away from him before he finishes raising his arm. 

He opens his mouth again to say her name, but speech is -- astoundingly \-- failing him at the moment. 

She enters the bedroom, spotting his backpack immediately. Immature piece of shit, she thinks. "Would a briefcase be a large departure from your desire to stay a boy forever, Peter Pan?" 

She picks the bag up from the floor and realizes what she said out loud. But she doesn't turn to look at him or apologize. She goes to her dresser, pulling out articles of Josh's clothing. 

She never cleared a drawer for him. Yet somehow, his boxers, t-shirts, sweaters and jeans had managed to accumulate. Amy goes through each drawer, removing his belongings. 

He stands in the doorway, not quite sure what to make of her Peter Pan jab. "You're packing up my stuff because we had a fight." When he finally regained his speech, he hardly recognized his voice. 

Amy went to her closet and opened the doors slowly. His suits were mixed with hers. "Call Donna." 

"Amy, I--" 

"I can see you in the mirror, Josh. You've already looked at the phone seven times. Call Donna. That's what you do." She's not sure if she is being matter-of-fact or bitter. She's not sure it matters. 

Her fingertips graze the black, gray, tan and taupe suits that hang in the closet. Amidst the garments are their dress shirts and her blouses. Her dresses. Her dress, the black and white couture dress that she had worn to Abby's birthday. Next to it was Josh's awful, mangled Mets jacket. She yanks it violently out of the closet, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 

She tosses it on the bed, which is when she realizes that he left the room to call Donna. 

Amy pulls out four suits and seven dress shirts. She can't remember where he put his stash of ties. 

Before she goes into the bathroom, she pauses in the doorway. His back is turned away, blocking her from his private conversation. She wants to throw something at him but there's nothing within reach. She settles for slipping back into her room and to her bathroom. 

Amy looks into the mirror before she opens the cabinet. Her face is pale, tearstained. And I need to have my hair colored, she thinks. She yanks open the cabinet and his after shave falls into the sink. The bottle shatters and she curses. 

She leans both hands on either side of the sink and closes her eyes. The stench of his after shave fills her nose, and she sneezes. It's a smell she'll remember, long after their break up. 

She takes out his razor from the cabinet, and closes the mirror gingerly. 

"What the hell was that? What broke?" He suddenly appears behind her in the mirror. Their eyes catch each other and she breaks contact first. She moves past him into her bedroom. 

"How's Donna?" she says over her shoulder. He ignores her. 

The pile of his stuff has grown considerably and she tosses his razor on top. "This won't fit in your backpack," she observes. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"Okay," she says. Impractically, she puts the razor in first. The item is followed by a rather small UW-Madison shirt. She has no idea where he would acquire such apparel but she doesn't ask. 

"You're mad at me. You have every right to have some animosi--" 

"Thanks, J, because I knew I needed to be told of my right to have certain--" 

"You are not the leader of the Democratic Party! You do not get to make policy decisions and you certainly can't push some women's thing..." 

She stops her hasty packing to look at him. His face becomes blank, and he feels caught between a mistake and vindication. 

A women's thing, she thinks. Amy finishes packing his backpack, which didn't really fit all that much. She puts the bag in his hands and nods at the rest of it. "I'll have my assistant get it to you." 

He looks at her open closet. "In college, you used to wear Doc Martens and fishnets. When did you stop doing that?" he asked softly. 

She looks at her subdued suits. "When I grew up." She's not sure if she's kidding. Neither is he. 

She walks out of her room and into the hall. Amy opens the door as he follows her, the bag still resting in his arms. "This is ridiculous." 

"No, it's not," she says. She stares at the door. 

"We can wo--" 

"We can work it out? That's the best a Fulbright Scholar can do? A man lost his life tonight. It puts things in perspective." 

He stared at her blankly. "It makes me put you in perspective." 

Amy groaned and sighed at the same time. "What the fuck does that even mean?" 

"Simon Donovan was a good man and he died, heroically, serving his country. The least you can do is take that courageous example and work for the good of your party by--" 

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, "Did you just spin Simon Donovan's life as a way to inspire zombie-like patriotism within me?" 

Josh sighed, leaning against the door. "This thing with Simon... C.J. is inconsolable, apparently. It's a waste of a tremendous agent and a good man. I'm sorry if I seemed inconsiderate, but I'm tired. It's hard work defeating you. And worse, you think I enjoyed it." 

"You did," she replied evenly. "This can't work. Us. Not while you enjoy making me inefficient. Maybe what you really need is a woman who will be docile and cute." She blinked. "Come to think of it, you already have a woman like that." 

"Don't bring her into this," he said sharply. "That's not true, and don't say it and DON'T bring her into this." 

She thought of the blonde, and she thought of the devotion. It made her feel ill. "I have a job, Josh. Or, I had a job. And to do my job, I need to be concerned for the welfare of others. What do you do all day?" 

"I'm responsible for the welfare of this republic! I think the real question is, what do you--" 

"I have a responsibility to myself, first and foremost. That's where my loyalty lies." Amy looks at the wrinkles in his face. "Where is your loyalty to Josh Lyman? Standing up for this sorry excuse of a liberal administration isn't going to save you." 

"I serve at the pleasure of the President, first and foremost. That's my loyalty." He walks out, almost walks away. 

When he walks towards her, back to her, he seems flat. "What kills me is that you love him. And that you know he's the only chance this country has to protect the freedoms and choices that you fight for daily." 

"He doesn't have to be the only chance. Save your Bartlet For America Part II bullshit for someone else." 

Josh walks away now, down the hall. He decides to take the stairs. 

When she closes the door, she realizes that perhaps she's a little drunk. She wants to call his cellphone, but she's not sure that he's had time to get a new one to replace his boiled unit. 

Amy calls Donna. And Donna is polite and official. And Donna is sweet and nice and Josh is going to her apartment right now. 

Amy is sure of that. She goes to her bathroom to run the faucet, and sits on the edge of the tub. It's quiet, and she had just tired of shouting. 

Josh walks out to the street, warm air blowing across his face. He dials her cellphone that she lent him. 

"Josh, I'm just leaving now. I'll be in the office in--" 

"She packed up all of my stuff and sent me on my way." 

"Oh. Really." Her voice sounded unsympathetic, unsurprised, or both. 

"There's no point to go in right this second. I'm coming over." 

"Josh, I don't think that--" 

"I'm already in the car," he lied. He closed his phone, and opened his car. He slid in, turned the car on. 

He allowed himself one look up to her window. 

He couldn't see her, but that was okay. He'd get by. He had a job to do, after all. Re-election. Welfare of this republic. He swallowed. 

He headed to Donna's apartment. 

+the end+ 


End file.
